


Swept Away

by Nevanna



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Age Difference, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Extremely Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Manipulation, Outdoor Sex, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Peter has been leading James along... or was it the other way around?
Relationships: James Wright/Peter Lukas
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36
Collections: Rusty Kink





	Swept Away

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme prompt: _"James Wright should totally, one way or another, have his way with teenage Peter. Dubcon/noncon would be A+."_

James Wright is quiet as he and Peter stroll across the grounds together.

Since his first visit to Moorland House, he’s shown more interest in Peter than all the other adults in his life combined. After he emerged from another meeting to discuss funding for the Magnus Institute, he would sometimes try to draw Peter into conversation: about the books that his tutors assigned, his opinion on this or that supernatural phenomenon, and, since Peter turned sixteen, about his plans for the future.

However, James also seems to recognize when a shared silence is necessary, which is, perhaps, one of the reasons why Peter never tried to flee his handclasps or his words or his piercing, unwavering gaze.

He breaks that silence as they pass beneath the gnarled branches of an orchard that has never, to Peter’s knowledge, borne a single fruit: “Do you still intend to take to the sea?”

“It seems like the best way to lose myself,” Peter replies. “And to find others who want the same thing.”

“I can’t help but admire your devotion to your patron,” James remarks. “I imagine that your family would feel similarly.”

“I wouldn’t imagine that they care.” Over the last few years, as _Mr.-Wright-from-London_ became _James_ , as his handshakes became lingering touches on Peter’s shoulders or wrists or neck, as he started to slip into Peter’s more inconvenient dreams, the stories that he told about his research also became Peter’s window into the mysteries of loving family relationships. So many people approached the Institute on behalf of vanished siblings, haunted parents, transformed or possessed lovers. More than a few of them sought answers, revenge, closure, anything to ease the heartbreak that inevitably grew in the too-moist, too-dense soil of human connection. Peter’s disdain for those stories didn’t stop him from listening to every word, even if he had to retreat into the embrace of the Lonely afterward and fill his lungs with its cold, numbing fog.

By now, the trees around them are taller, thicker, and cast longer shadows. Peter turns to face James for the first time since they started walking. “Don’t you need to be getting back?”

“Is that what you want?” James asks softly. Not for the first time, he cups Peter’s face. Not for the first time, Peter feels a thumb brush his lip and finds himself wondering what would happen if… “No,” James answers himself. “You want me to kiss you.”

Peter flinches. He _knew_ that this was a mistake. Perhaps it’s better if James turns and walks back toward his car, returns to the chaos of the city, leaving Peter to the comforting certainty of solitude.

But James murmurs, “There’s no need to hide it,” and leans forward to touch Peter’s lips with his own. “None of us are immune to curiosity, no matter what power we serve,” he adds, as Peter gasps. “I, for instance, would _very_ much like to hear you make that noise again.” Another, firmer kiss, with clever motions of teeth and tongue that make Peter’s stomach swoop and his knees buckle as if he’s already unmoored on stormy waters.

“Wait,” Peter protests as James takes him by the shoulders and pushes him against the nearest tree. “Not here – we can’t…” His words barely even convince _himself_. Didn’t he lead them here, today and every time that he responded to James’ voice or touch?

“Are you worried that somebody will catch us?” James sounds amused, and his eyes glitter with horrifying, mesmerizing delight. “Nobody knows where you are, my young friend, and you said yourself that they don’t _care_.”

Perhaps those words are meant to wound him, but Peter seeks solace in their meaning as James nibbles at his throat and works a knee between his legs. Perhaps the Lonely is testing them, and if Peter can still offer himself to the power that he not only serves but loves; if he can let it bear him away, even as he is stroked and fondled and opened and _known_ like all his dreams have come to life, then he can be sure that it will never let him go.


End file.
